


Special Collections

by ghostinthemirror



Series: Librarian AU [1]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Ancient History, Demons, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, Graduate School, Librarian AU, Libraries, Multi, Occult, Romantic Comedy, Special Collections, Supernatural Elements, archives, archivists, the librarian au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthemirror/pseuds/ghostinthemirror
Summary: Palamedes Sextus, the Director of the Library, has some concerns about Harrowhark's Special Collections and Archives: he thinks she's working with demons. Of course, he would investigate if his coworkers would behave...
Relationships: Abigail Pent/Magnus Quinn, Augustine the First & Mercymorn the First (Locked Tomb Trilogy), Augustine the First/Mercymorn the First (Locked Tomb Trilogy), Camilla Hect & Palamedes Sextus, Dulcinea Septimus/Palamedes Sextus, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Series: Librarian AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112003
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	Special Collections

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this ridiculous AU I came up with on accident. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! Hopefully, I'll be able to update this regularly.

The day had barely begun, and Palamedes already wished he had stayed in bed.

The Hearth, the library-adjacent coffee shop in the lobby that raised money for library proceeds, was a mess. As the door behind him shut, he saw the unmistakable curly hair of Jeannemary peeking up from behind the counter. There was spilled milk everywhere, sneaking past the coffee counter and into the lobby’s sitting area. Coffee grounds soaked into the milk puddle like a blackened cereal. It also vaguely smelled like something was burning, which told Palamedes that Isaac likely tried one of his experiments on the espresso machine again.

“You okay back there?” Palamedes asked.

All he got was a groan, which told him Jeannemary was fine and Abigail would likely help her in a few minutes.

This all was fairly routine and nothing too concerning, but inside the library itself was a whole other matter.

The minute he walked in, Mercymorn and Augustine were already ripping each other to metaphorical shreds in circulation in front of a poor guest.

“I’m just saying, Joy,” Augustine had begun, “that parenting books are useful to some degree.”

“Oh, bullshit,” said the woman called Joy. This always confused Palamedes, for there was nothing joyous about Mercymorn Oct. Like most older-generation librarians, she was sour on a good day, and Palamedes could say with absolute certainty he had never seen her smile. “Parenting books are what publishers churn out for a quick buck. They help no one. Have you seen the damages of _To Train a Child_?”

The guest cleared her throat. “I just want to check out my books, ma’am.”

Palamedes went behind the counter and set down his laptop bag. “I can help you over here,” he said, shooting Mercymorn and Augustine a warning look, which went completely ignored.

The patron set her books on the desk, and Palamedes began checking them out and making small talk. Not a single book had anything to do with parenting or even children in general. Palamedes would’ve wondered what started an argument about parenting between Mercy and Augustine, but he learned a long time ago to not ask such questions anymore.

As a thank-you for dealing with the terrible circulation desk, Palamedes slipped the guest a “Free Coffee at the Hearth” card. He dealt many of these quite frequently these days. Once the guest departed, Palamedes tried to break up Augustine and Mercy, perhaps to send Augustine to collections with Judith and Marta for the day, but they wouldn’t quit.

“My parents didn’t read a single parenting book, and I turned out _fucking fine_!”

“Oh, did you, Joy?” Augustine asked, mirth in his sneer. “Did you really turn out fine?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

Palamedes decided it was time to go to the reference desk. There was one other beast harder to tame than Mercy: Harrowhark Nonagesimus.

Harrow was technically the head reference librarian, but Harrow expressed, quite bluntly, that she hated people and would rather share the desk with Palamedes than brave the general public by herself. Palamedes found this to be fair, and he was better at dealing with discord than she was.

Harrow’s prickliness aside, she was brilliant at what she did. She was currently getting her PhD in history, like Palamedes did, but Palamedes secretly wondered if she was faring better in graduate school than he was. Along with being the Queen of the Reference Desk, she ran the special collections and historical archives; beneath the library was a massive, ancient archival room that she refused to let Palamedes inside. He heard Abigail, the head of Youth Services, had snuck in once, but she claimed she didn’t find much aside from Harrow sleeping and a few ghosts.

Granted, Abigail always claimed to see ghosts.

This only terrified him when Harrow said she saw them, too.

Palamedes walked by Harrow, who was laying on the desk, lined eyes shut. She looked as though she had pulled another all-nighter again. Knowing better than to poke her and knowing she wouldn’t answer if he shouted for her to wake up, he texted Abigail.

“Harrow fell asleep again.”

The reply came instantly. “I’ll bring her a quad latte. I hear she has to turn in a massive project. Poor thing hasn’t slept in days.”

Palamedes looked at the slumped-over goth. She looked tiny and gentle in her sleep, but he knew that if she ever caught wind of Abigail calling her a “poor thing,” she’d probably gouge out her eyes with a rusty spoon.

Still, he took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. She didn’t budge.

Palamedes got himself situated at his desk. Laptop on, current spreadsheets up, and side research beside him. He was in his element.

Camilla Hect, Palamedes’ personal closest confidant and Head of Circulation, came sweeping by with a coffee and a frown.

“Is Harrow okay?” Cam asked, handing Palamedes his coffee. “She’s been here since I opened. I don’t think she went home last night.”

Palamedes spun his chair around. Harrow was snoring softly. He noticed she had snuggled a bit into his wool coat. 

“I’m not sure. I bothered Abigail. She responds to her better than anyone else.”

“She’s not still living with her ex, is she?” Cam pressed. “I tried to ask, but she threatened to put bone marrow in my lunch, so I didn’t continue.”

“She’s not,” Palamedes reassured her. “I went to her apartment with her cousin a few weeks ago.”

“Ortus?”

“Yes, the poet.”

“Well, at least she’s not with... _her_.”

Palamedes nodded. He was glad the library had all collectively decided to never name Harrow’s horrible ex ever again. 

“I was worried she was crashing here to avoid her is all,” Cam continued. 

“Abigail said she’s working on a project for grad school.”

Cam and Palamedes shuddered in unison, remembering the horrors of graduate studies.

“I see,” said Cam. “Well, I actually came over with a message.”

Palamedes leaned on his hands. “What is it?”

“Your IT girl is here, but she wanted me to ask you if you needed extra help, since Jeannemary and Isaac are the only pages. She claims she doesn’t need to be paid to shelve, but--”

“Of course I’d pay her, and with the two of them--” he gestured in the direction of Mercy and Augustine, “any help is great. You can send her over here if you want.”

Cam nodded and led her cart away, off to find the IT girl. Palamedes knew who it was immediately; most of the IT department wouldn’t be caught dead lifting anything, but there was one in particular who probably used lifting stacks of books as exercise. Palamedes quite liked her, and he suspected Harrow did, too, though she’d never admit it.

Pulling him out of his reverie, Abigail arrived at the desk with her husband, Magnus, the children’s librarian. 

“She’s out like a light!” Magnus whispered.

“You don’t need to whisper,” Abigail said. “It won’t bother her.”

“Right, right,” Magnus said. “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her sleep so soundly. Her poor neck.”

“I almost don’t want to wake her up,” Abigail pouted. “She looks so cute in your coat.”

“Don’t tell her that. Someone told her she looked cute once, and she actually ran away.”

Abigail blinked. “She did?”

Magnus began to smile. “Harrow can _run_?”

“Apparently, quite quickly. She hid in the bathroom for a good hour.”

“It was me!” a loud but low feminine voice rang out. “I called her cute. But can’t she hear you guys talking about her?”

Palamedes looked up to see none other than the IT girl herself, Gideon Nav.

On the surface, the buff ginger looked like any gym-addicted lesbian, but he knew there was a hidden brilliance behind all the beef. When she wasn’t in the gym, she led the IT department rather seamlessly, and he knew she hosted her own ethical hacking group and was teaching Jeannemary for free. Truly, a warrior in physicality and of the mind.

“Don’t worry,” Cam said from beside Gideon, her cart now empty. Palamedes never knew how she emptied those so quickly. “She can’t hear you.”

“Oh, okay,” said Gideon with a bright smile. “She’s super cute when she’s like this.”

Abigail and Magnus exchanged looks and giggles. After they had their married couple moment, Abigail made her way over to Harrow’s side of the desk. Palamedes spun in his chair to watch the encounter. Everyone else crowded around Palamedes’ side of the circle-shaped desk, holding their breaths as Abigail descended to her impending doom: the consequences of waking up Harrow.

Palamedes knew what the others did not: Harrow and Abigail had a rather special relationship that began when they went to a haunted house over Halloween, which turned out to be actually haunted and turned into a huge bonding experience between the two goths. As far as Palamedes new (from private conversations with Harrow), she saw Abigail like the mother she didn’t have.

Gently, Abigail shook Harrow’s shoulder, earning a mumble and a light slap. With a laugh, Abigail set the coffee next to Harrow, along with a paper bag. At this, Harrow began to stir and open her eyes. 

“Good morning,” Abigail said to her, settling herself square in the center of Harrow’s vision. “I made you lunch because I knew you’d forget yours.”

Harrow was clearly not awake enough for complete sentences. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s for you. Four shots in a latte, just the way you like it.”

Harrow began to chug the coffee. Palamedes worried for a second she’d puke. It wasn’t an infrequent occurrence. 

After some caffeine was in her system, she said the wildest words Palamedes had ever heard the disgruntled goth ever say. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, Harrowhark!” Abigail ruffled her hair. Surprisingly, Harrow didn’t bite her hand off.

“This is amazing,” Gideon said, “like watching National Geographic where a wild animal gets along with a human.”

Magnus practically doubled over laughing. “A wild Harrowhark has appeared!”

“That’s Pokemon,” Cam remarked.

“I’d catch a Harrow-mon,” Gideon said.

The silence behind Palamedes was deafening. Cam, after a spell, snorted.

Luckily, Harrow heard none of this. Palamedes was grateful, for he wanted to keep his bones in his skin for another day.

Harrow stretched, Palamedes’ coat falling to the ground. Confirming Cam’s suspicions, Harrow was in the same tunic as yesterday with the same spiderweb leggings and boots that made her five feet solid. 

“Dear,” said Abigail, “have you been here all night? You’re a mess!”

“What else is new,” she said, voice flat. She poked in the bag. “What’s this?”

“Your lunch. I made it. Don’t worry, nothing with flavor.”

Harrow pulled out her lunch: a sandwich (likely allergy-friendly for Harrow’s poor immune system) in the shape of a skull (Abigail was a fan of her cookie cutters), an applesauce, and some bland crackers. 

“Food,” said Harrow, as if she hadn’t heard the term before. “I like the skull.”

“I do, too! It reminded me of you. So why were you here all night? If you ever need a ride, you can always text me.”

“I had to stay late for a request,” Harrow replied. “Late night crew paid a small fortune for copies of those subterranean maps I told you about, but he couldn’t come until after midnight.”

“Fine, but I could’ve picked you up afterward! You’re going to hurt yourself sleeping on the desk!”

Harrow shrank into her shoulders like a scolded child. “Well, after he left, I had to work on my project and I guess I just...fell asleep.” She slapped her tablet, and indeed, it was open to a thesis-looking word processing page. “See?”

Abigail peered at it. “I can see exactly where you fell asleep.”

“Wait a minute.” Harrow turned the screen off. Palamedes could see her black-lipsticked frown reflected in the blank tablet. “People.” She spun around slowly, her toes struggling to touch the ground. She was probably trying to be menacing, but he could hear Gideon giggling. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“I’m leaving,” announced Cam.

“Hi leaving, I’m Dad!” Magnus replied, not-so-helpfully.

But it was Gideon who was the worst. “Oh wow,” she said.

Harrow scowled at Palamedes--what had he done wrong?--and Magnus for a moment before her eyes fell on Gideon, and she froze. It was as though Abigail behind her found the off-switch to a rather unruly robot set on the extinction of humanity. Her eyes glazed over. She gripped the arms of her spinning chair so hard, if she hadn’t been so frail, she likely would have broken them. 

Behind her, Abigail was grinning. When her eyes met Palamedes’, she winked, and that was when Palamedes connected the dots.

Harrow, the princess of darkness, the librarian who told patrons to die more than anything helpful, the girl who streamed gruesome horror movies on her iPad, the true crime podcast enthusiast, the unfettered historian of all things occult, had a _crush_.

“Good morning!” Gideon exclaimed. 

Harrow closed her eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, then said, “Please go away.”

Palamedes turned. “She did say please.”

“So polite,” Magnus agreed. Raising his voice, he said, “I’m going to get ready for the ten o’clock storytime. Are you reading with me, honey?”

“Of course, dear.” Abigail reached over and spun Harrow around to talk to her. “I’ve got to run. Behave, and I’ll make you dinner.”

“Depends on the dinner,” Harrow replied, always one to bargain.

“Spaghetti. Your favorite.”

“Hmmm…define ‘behave.’”

Abigail looked up in mock-thought. “Well. Don’t threaten the patrons. Help Palamedes with the catalogue. Maybe help me feed the guinea pigs?”

“A deal,” Harrow said, holding her tiny hand out. 

Abigail shook. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Harrow made a noncommittal gesture and put the food back in her paper bag, tucking it behind the desk.

“Spaghetti?” Gideon said.

Palamedes, who had known Harrow for what felt like centuries, replied for her. “She likes spaghetti. She likes to imagine the noodles are the intestines of her enemies and she is sucking them out.”

Surprisingly, Gideon did not seem horrified. Golden eyes wide, she breathed, “Creative.”

Harrow chose this moment to spin her chair around and drag it over to Palamedes’ side and scowl at Gideon. “Why are you here?”

“I’m helping Palamedes around the library. Why are you here?”

Harrow’s scowl deepened. “I work here, dumbass.”

“No, I mean...you seem really tired. You should, like. Go home. Have some soup. Take a nap.”

The horror on Harrow’s face was astounding. “Take a _nap_? Are you fucking me?”

“Not currently, no.”

With that, Harrow left the desk, taking her latte with her. The back of her neck and ears were quite red, Palamedes noted.

Gideon sighed and rubbed the back of her own neck, though there was a smile on her face as she watched the tiny goth storm off. “I think I fucked that one up.”

“I don’t think so,” Palamedes said. “She’s not usually that polite. Or stiff.”

“Really?”

“She said please,” Palamedes explained. “She _never_ says please. And the look she gave you...I can’t say I’ve ever seen before. Truly unseen in the Harrowhark species.”

“So should I go after her?”

Palamedes looked to his left to see Mercy had dragged Harrow into her argument with Augustus. “Unless you want to deal with Mercy and Augustine or possible skeletal removal from Harrow, I wouldn’t recommend it. She’ll return eventually. Surprisingly enough, there are patrons who really like getting help from her.”

“I can imagine,” Gideon said, her voice sounding a bit dreamy.

“So you were telling Cam that you wanted to help the Pages do shelving?”

“Well, yeah.” Gideon blinked a few times to shake herself out of an obvious case of Nonagesimitus. “I may have been around when Isaac blew up the espresso machine, and I may know how much it costs for him to pay Abigail back, so I figure he’ll be absent for a while. Thought I’d fill in. Do some heavy lifting.” She flexed, and Palamedes couldn’t help but snorted. “Plus, I’d get to hang out with Cam.”

It was a fair argument. Cam was an efficient worker, but a delight in her own way. He did know that Cam and Gideon tended to work out together. “And you’re sure this isn’t just so you can ogle at--”

“Oh, Palamedes!”

Palamedes felt his heart rise into his throat along with a bit of Cam’s coffee. He knew that sing-song voice from anywhere: Dulcinea Septimus, his demise.

“That looks like my cue to go,” Gideon said. “Don’t blame you for that one, though. She’s a cutie, too.”

Palamedes sighed. “As long as you can keep up with your IT duties--”

“I got it!” Gideon shouted as she ran off to find Cam.

With an additional sigh for good measure, Palamedes turned to see Dulcie wheel up to the desk with a bright smile on her face. Her nasal cannula was fitted today, the makeshift pulmonary drain Palamedes fashioned seeming to be of her doctor’s approval. Her live-in carer, Protesilaus, followed her for a moment before giving Palamedes a nod and disappearing into the shelves of eighteenth-century literature. 

“Hello, Dulcie,” Palamedes managed. His voice only cracked a little this time. “How are you faring today?”

“Better than last week. I only threw up three times this morning, and look at my new scarf!” she gestured upward, where a chartreuse scarf hid the evidence of her chemo. “It’s keeping me quite warm this winter. Pro sewed it to match my dress.” She petted the fifties vintage piece with its faint bloodstains. 

“You look, um. Lovely,” said Palamedes, feeling heat at his cheeks.

Dulcie grinned. Her teeth didn’t look as pink as usual, which was a great sign. “Aw, thank you, Pal! I usually dress up for me, but today, I dressed up for you.”

It was, naturally, that moment Harrow decided to come back and scowl some more. “Dulcie. You’re back here so much, you might as well give him an extra blowjob for a real job.”

“Oh, Harrow!” Dulcie giggled. “Always a pleasure! But sorry to say, you just missed your girlfriend, so it appears the joys of giving head will have to wait, hmm?”

Harrow’s blush was visible, even beneath her freshly-touched-up white face paint. “She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Oh, but you knew who I was talking about. That says so much.” Dulcie held a hand to her heart. “In this romance novel I just finished, the Drow Queen of Darkness denied her passionate love for her swordbearer until she received a deadly blow to the neck. At the end, the Drow Queen ran onto the battlefield and profused her undying love before committing suicide right there on the battlefield! If you don’t confess soon, that’ll be you.” Dulcie wiggled a finger at Harrow.

Harrow blinked a few times. She had fixed her previously-smudged eyeliner, and Palamedes privately thought it was a shame Gideon hadn’t stuck around for a bit. She might have passed out, and perhaps then, Harrow would realize Gideon had a thing for small, dark, and sardonic.

“I’m not even going to begin to tell you how stupid that sounds,” Harrow said finally. “Anyway, I need to make a few copies of some old documents, so I’ll be back in a bit.”

“That’s oddly nice of you to give me notice,” Palamedes noted. “Are you feeling okay?”

“No. I haven’t slept properly in three days, and I threw up my coffee on Augustine.”

“Good aim,” Dulcie noted.

“Thank you. It was well-deserved, but now he’s bitching up a storm about Armani suits. Anyway, someone sent me a message wanting these as soon as possible, so it’s urgent.”

“Why are your historical documents always so urgent?” Palamedes dared to ask, hoping Harrow was tired enough to answer. “Are you making deals with demons downstairs?”

Harrow blanched for a second, opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it and spun on her heels with a huff.

Dulcie tilted her head, and Palamedes nearly had a heart attack with how cute her expression was. “I get the sense that was a half-serious question.”

Palamedes watched Harrow all the way to the stairs. “You could certainly say that.”

For it was true: Palamedes, for the longest time, had suspicions as to what Harrow did after hours, and who her clients were. He knew he couldn’t investigate directly, but with the right tools, he would find out...given time.

**Author's Note:**

> A guide to the characters and their positions:
> 
> Director: Palamedes, who also runs reference
> 
> Reference: Harrow, who also runs special collections and a history archive
> 
> Circulation: Cam is head of circulation; Mercymorn and Augustine also are there
> 
> Collections: Judith and Marta
> 
> Youth Services: Abigail
> 
> Children's Services: Magnus
> 
> IT: Gideon and unnamed NPCs; Jeannemary interns
> 
> Pages: Jeannemary, Isaac, and soon Gideon
> 
> The Hearth Coffee: Jeannemary and Isaac with Abigail's help
> 
> Patrons:  
> -Dulcie is the most frequent, with her carer, Protesilaus; she has dialysis twice a week and chemo one a month down the road, and she spends her remaining time afterward and between treatments reading romance novels and flirting with Palamedes.
> 
> -Silas is a priest who tries to swindle library patrons outside of the library. He has been banned from being inside the library and often, the police are involved to remove him from the premises.


End file.
